by T. C. Edge
I look from one to the next with a bloom of affection in me. Their faces are similarly bright, Magnus’s in particular. He’s the first to speak.
“Brie, how are you?! Or, I suppose I should be calling you Mrs Shaw now…”
“Hi…Magnus. I’m really well, thanks.”
My eyes switch to Titus, who looks to his companion with a frown.
“Magnus, you know her?” he asks.
Now Magnus turns to his similarly sized colleague.
“Yes, I met her on guard at the western gate. Wait…you know her too?”
“I met her at the bachelor ball not so long ago,” nods Titus. “And…”
He cuts himself off, refusing to recollect the second of our meetings, and turns down to me. Then Magnus does too, and for the first time I see the resemblance.
“Are you…related?” I ask.
They both nod, and Titus speaks.
“Brothers. I’m the older.”
“But only by a year, Titus,” booms Magnus. “Don’t go playing that card again. And anyway, I’m bigger…”
Titus huffs and shakes his head. Size, I assume, is the prized asset among such people.
I stifle a laugh at the exchange. It’s strangely comical seeing these two gigantic men standing side by side, speaking together in such a fashion.
“Your poor mother,” I whisper, smirking. It was meant to just be a thought, but slipped out.
They both frown at me. For some reason, I don’t find either of them in the slightest bit intimidating anymore.
“What was that, Brie?” asks Titus, peering down.
“Oh, nothing…I’m just imagining you two as kids, that’s all. Can’t have been easy for your mother…”
“Well, don’t feel sorry for her,” remarks Titus. “She’s hardly a shrinking violet herself. I doubt you’ve seen too many Brute women, but they do exist I can assure you.”
It’s true. Brute women do seem to be a rarity. Living in Outer Haven, even seeing a Brute man as part of the City Guard was rare enough. Until recently, of course.
“So what are you doing here, Brie? Shouldn’t you be in your new home?” asks Magnus, glancing at the High Tower.
I follow his eyes.
“Oh, I just came down to take a look. I suppose I wanted to see Commander Fenby with my own eyes, rather than watching on the TV…I mean hologram. Seeing a member of the Consortium is such a treat.”
My words flow with a strong scent of sarcasm. Unlike Adryan, these two quickly pick it up. Titus’s eyes, especially, look upon me with a hint of a glare, a questioning gaze that suggests he’s still suspicious that I’m up to no good.
The last time I saw him, he was sneaking me into the city in his car and depositing me out into an alley in the southern quarter. He saw straight through me that morning, and knew exactly what I was. He let me go despite it all, and yet had a few stern words of warning too, a warning that, unfortunately, I can’t submit to no matter how appealing such a thing might be.
He doesn’t know what I’m up to, but makes it pretty clear that he thinks something’s going on. And all he needs to convince me of that is a simple look and nothing more.
God it’s good to be around ‘normal’ people again. Strange to say, given their gargantuan size, but oversized humans though they are, they’re still just men. People with the ability to convey feeling and emotion and all manner of other things with nothing more than the tiniest alterations to their expression.
It’s weird how much you take that for granted. When you end up spending your time surrounded by people who just can’t do the same, you start to appreciate it even more.
So, despite the fact that Titus looks at me suspiciously, I actually rather like seeing it. Naturally, he’ll have no idea what I’m actually up to, but seeing as he strongly suspects I’m with the Nameless, he must be assuming it’s pretty important.
I trust him, though, not to say anything. He didn’t hand me over to be taken to the REEF before, so I doubt he’ll go looking for an excuse to have another crack. And, if he did, the truth would come out and the help he gave me would be mined from my memories, and he’d no doubt find himself lined up next to me in front of the executioner.
Not a good spot for either of us. And, with a very brief dart into his mind, I see that he’s thinking exactly that. There’s real suspicion there, but nothing for him to act upon.
Magnus, meanwhile, just smiles and continues to ask me how my life is going. I offer a few words back that are essentially positive, but which sound negative by the manner in which I utter them. Magnus merely smirks and says: “Well, you signed up for this, Brie! You only have yourself to blame!”
With that, his older brother taps him on the back and tells me they have to get going.
“The ceremony will start soon enough, Brie. Good to see you again,” he says.
Magnus agrees with the sentiment, and the two giants stamp off to take their positions.
Left alone now, an official, who I noticed hovering about nearby, immediately comes over towards me. He has a face that reminds me of a rodent, and a rather long nose that you’d assume would make him a Sniffer.
“Excuse me, but you’ll have to step down the street. You can’t be here,” comes his nasal command.
I assume he didn’t tell me before due to my companions. Now that they’ve gone, I guess I need to ‘know my place.”
Still, seeing as I live in the High Tower, I assume I have some authority to find a position a little closer to the stage. When I tell him as much, he dismisses my theory and says, in no uncertain terms, that I need to ‘join the rest of my kind at the back’.
The way in which he addresses me, and looks at me, makes it clear that this ratty little man has no respect for Outer Haveners.
Feeling insulted, I find it hard not to act. If this creature knew what I really was, then he wouldn’t be looking down on me like this.
Don’t react, Brie, I warn myself. That’s just your pride speaking.
Damn right it is.
I can’t help but offer him a very clear look of my own batch of personal disdain. And then, with a flash of my eyes, I slip into his mind and order him to apologise.
It’s completely inadvisable to act as such, especially in present company, but something in me just snaps that I can’t control. Thankfully, however, I pull myself from his consciousness too quickly for anyone nearby to notice, and set my eyes on the man again.
Seeing as he’s not a Savant, and his mind is no more advanced than any regular fellow over in Outer Haven, the order sets easily. I guess I’ve been spending enough time issuing orders to powerful minds that anything less is a walk in the park.
So it would seem.
With a sudden contrition, the weasel looks at me, bows his head, and offers an immediate apology.
“I’m very sorry,” he says earnestly, “for the way I spoke to you.”
I smile, both from hearing his words – man that order was easy to deliver – and from relief that I wasn’t caught out.
“That’s quite alright,” I tell him. “I guess you’re just doing your job.”
He nods and scurries away, and despite winning that little exchange, I begin moving a little further down the street. After all, I’m only going to get some other official telling me to move, so might as well ‘join my kind at the back’, as he told me to do.
So, off I go down the street, heading towards the rear stands, all filled with blue. I’m fairly surprised to see so many Unenhanced here, and so many people in general. I thought it was to be a smaller affair, a more private event to honour an important, but specific force of people in this city.
Clearly, though, given their growing prominence in recent weeks, the people have come out to give them their support. As one of the few people around here who actually knows what the hell is going on on the ‘inside’, it does leave a rather bitter taste in my mouth.
Moving in to find a place to sit, a soft voice calls out behind me.
<
br /> “Brie! Oh Brie!”
I turn around and see Sophie come rushing through the narrow gap between the stands, hurrying to catch me up. She needn’t, really, seeing as I’ve stopped.
Still, she keeps on coming at a decent trot, gobbling me up into her typically swift embrace.
“Brie, darling, I hoped I’d catch you here this afternoon. How are you? How’s Adryan? How’s your new life?!”
I get the usual sense of enthusiasm from her, although it feels quite forced and somewhat muted. There’s a redness around her eyes that not even her makeup can hide, and a pain etched across her usually pristine visage that anyone with a bit of compassion would be able to see.
Taking my hand, she pulls me into a seat towards the front of the section set aside for our people, and sets her eyes on me.
“Tell me everything.”
The request looks to be somewhat distractionary, as if she needs something to take her mind off the reality of her life. That’s the impression I get from her, and the feeling that abounds from her thoughts as I snipe in and take a quick look.
So, instead of telling her how my life is going, I can’t help but ask about hers.
“What’s wrong, Sophie?” I ask softly.
She recoils a little, as if such a question is so rarely asked of her. And then, after a couple of seconds’ delay, the cracks begin to show, and the corners of her eyes grow damp.
“It’s nothing, nothing,” she says hurriedly.
I take her hand in comfort.
“It’s OK, Sophie. You can tell me.”
She locks eyes with me again. I don’t need to set an order. I don’t want to force her to do anything.
Because, really, it’s so obvious what this is about.
“Rycard,” she whispers. “He’s…he’s been discharged…”
Yep, that’s what I thought.
“Is he here?” I ask.
She shakes her head, pulling a handkerchief from her purse and dabbing her eyes.
“He wouldn’t come. Not after everything. I thought I’d better…you know, to keep up appearances. But…but I’m worried, Brie. I’m so worried.”
She begins to shake, and I pull her into a hug.
“It’s OK,” I whisper, shushing her. “We’ll figure something out. I’ll help you. It’ll all be fine in the end, you’ll see…”
Her weak eyes rise up again, stiffening.
“You really think so?”
“Of course. I promise.”
My words are mostly empty of real meaning. They’re the sort of clichéd offerings you give to someone in such a state, words to do nothing but give them some of your strength, show them that you’re right there with them, and that they don’t have to go through it all alone.
It’s obvious from Sophie’s expression that, whatever show she puts on, she has been going through this alone for some time. That she doesn’t really have anyone to talk to, no one to lay bare her soul to, to shed all her worries and concerns and hear the very words I’m telling her: that it will be OK.
And regaining her lost composure, she quickly pulls herself back together, refusing to surrender to anything but a brief moment of weakness. Raising that familiar false smile, she nods and sniffs her last.
“You’re right,” she says. “It’ll…all be fine.”
She’s lying. She doesn’t think that at all. And in truth, I’m lying too. Because I know, really, that she, and her family, are in real danger now of being cast out.
But there’s one thing I’m not lying about. I will help her. That’s a promise that I’ll always keep, no matter what.
And as I smile back supportively, a sudden hush begins to flow from the front stands, and the great mass of City Guards ahead stand up straight and to attention, all their bodies stiffening as one. Their eyes raise up, and so do those of the entire congregation, and from the shadows at the rear of the balcony, a man comes.
Dressed in a dazzling white, and with a head of neat grey hair and calm blue eyes, Commander Fenby advances. He moves straight towards the front of the balcony, his step precise and smooth, and surveys all the gathered people before him.
An unearthly silence fills the air, showing the deep levels of reverence these people hold for their leaders, and I wait in breathless anticipation for the Commander’s first words.
But they never come.
Because from a high angle off to the left, a pulse of blue light fills the air, spreading from the window of a nearby building and galloping straight for the balcony. I catch it immediately in my peripheral vision, somewhere above me, and with a tension gripping at my heart, activate my Hawk and Dasher powers together to slow the flow of light to my eyes.
I watch now, with the world moving at a crawl around me, as the light zips straight for the balcony, connecting with an invisible shield around it. Immediately, bright blue sparks begin to fizz and crackle, eating away at the force field, and as it does, another flash brightens above, and a loud snap echoes across the square.
Still staring at the disintegrating shield, I see Commander Fenby turning his gaze up, his eyes widening with an element of confusion. Then, as the barrier before him melts, the shape of a single bullet cuts straight through a tiny gap, moving so fast I can barely pick it up.
Through it goes, sent by an expert marksman hidden from sight, and cutting a path right for Commander Fenby’s head. Before he can react – before anyone can react – the bullet imbeds itself into his skull, and emerges from the other side, leaving nothing but a circle of red in its wake, and a splash of crimson on the wall of the balcony behind.
For a second, as the echo of gunfire bounds down the streets of Inner Haven, no one does anything. And then, as Commander Fenby collapses to the floor, the world erupts into chaos.
And along with it, more gunfire comes.
14
The chattering of voices that preceded the arrival of Commander Fenby has now been replaced with the chattering of gunfire.
It comes from above and below. It comes from the left and right. Within barely a split second, every single person in attendance has begun to rush; some rushing away in fright, others rushing into the fray, searching frantically for the source.
The rattle of gunfire, coming from various angles, ends almost as abruptly as it starts. Immediately, however, my reaction is to hover low and hunt for the source as others are, dragging Sophie down with me.
Ahead, I look to see the City Guard spreading off in various directions, turning their minds from the ceremony and to their work. Dashers zip away, Hawks send forward their eyes, Bats listen for further signs of imminent gunfire.
But it ends quickly, and suddenly the street fills with nothing but screaming and clamouring and the heavy sound of pounding feet as thousands of people stand up and run.
I’m not one of them. I only stand but don’t run. Next to me, Sophie stays low under my command, my voice ordering for her to stay down should a fresh assault come.
Activating my Hawk powers, I look forward and scan the scene, trying to pick out any possible culprits, see some familiar face.
And familiar they will be. Because this attack can only have come from the Nameless.
Scanning, I watch as the Savants move back to the High Tower in a strangely orderly fashion. They don’t fling themselves about like the Unenhanced women around me, shrieking and crying and losing all sense of city etiquette as they charge off down the street as fast as their dainty legs will carry them.
No, Savants don’t behave like that, even in a crisis. Instead, they move at a controlled speed, reaching the doors of the High Tower and quickly disappearing inside without a fuss. Meanwhile, their regular Enhanced counterparts – those not involved with the City Guard – act in a similar fashion to the Unenhanced, rushing off using whatever gifts they’ve been given to get to safety as soon as possible.
Before long, the stands are clearing and the City Guard have formed a protective cordon around the place. Ahead, I see Deputy Burns man
aging things, pointing this way and that and working behind the vast protective frames of a number of armoured Brutes.
Already, I know, he’ll have the Stalkers hunting the assailants down, just as they did after the Nameless took control of the feed during the previous ceremony. It seems they rather enjoy interrupting these events, although this time it’s very different.
Last time, it was all about sending a message, getting in front of all of Outer Haven to send them a warning of the troubles to come. This time, however, they had something more sinister in mind.
They’ve just murdered a member of the Consortium. They’ve just assassinated one of the senior ranking Savants in this city. And, for my money, they’ve just made my job a hell of a lot harder.
What the hell is going on!
As Sophie continues to try to drag me down from my feet, calling for me to get down, I just stare out in anger and confusion. But there’s no fear in me. I know who did this, and I know they’ve done what they came here to do.
And I know, too, why my brother has been so busy lately. This attack has his fingerprints all over it. And clearly, it required a lot of planning.
But it’s over now, I know that. They killed the man they came here to kill, and they most likely continued to fire to cause chaos among the people, to create a diversion to help them escape. If they’re the good people I hope they are, they won’t have seen the need to murder anyone else today.
So I continue to scan forward to make sure, to check for other bodies. I see none. None that are dead or being treated, at least. Instead, I see hectic activity and rushing figures, all darting here and there as they try to figure out what the hell just happened.
But among those rushing bodies, one stands completely still. Swaying my vision across the stage, I see the close up face of Agent Woolf staring right back at me. My heart skips a beat and I zoom back with my eyes, returning my sight to normal. She’s a long way away, sixty metres or so, and yet still, she’s staring.